


Nicely Pierced

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Series: Kittie And Gem Stories [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Binge Drinking is bad, Distraction Techniques, Drunken Piercings, Greg can't keep a secret, Hand Jobs, John is a bit panicked, M/M, Penis Licking, Penis Piercing, Piercing Regret, Pub Quiz, Rimming, Sass, Sexual Frustration, Sherlock is a good friend, Slightly Dom Sherlock, Sorry Penises, Sort of Sub John?, helping hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: “It’s my penis!” John shouted in reply, “My meat and two veg! My one eyed trouser snake! Now it’s got a bloody great spike rammed through it! I think I’m allowed to get a little bit freaked out”John gets a drunken piercing. Sherlock is helpful.Not beta'd. Please comment! Chapters will be posted regularly.





	1. Chapter 1

John awoke groggily from his post-drunken haze, blinking at the blazing sunlight streaming through his curtains, he hissed painfully and ducked his head under the covers to hide from the light as his eyes once more adjusted to the darkness.

His body ached from the alcohol he had pushed himself to drink (he was a doctor, he should know better) and he felt sick, his head pounding with a throbbing in his temples and more worryingly, in his penis.

He knew that he hadn’t had sex. There was nobody else in bed with him, his body didn't have that nice relaxed 'just fucked' feeling and as he checked his body he noticed he was still fully dressed in the clothes he went out in. John didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that he had returned to Baker Street alone, but very, very intoxicated. John moved his hand to touch his crotch and winced at the sharp pain, something was very definitely not right down there and he threw back the covers, no longer caring about the bright morning light flooding his bedroom and his vision. He undone and unzipped his trousers, working them down his thighs and looked at his white y-fronts, noticing rather a lot of dried on blood. John’s heart pounded as he steeled himself, wondering if he had caught his foreskin on his zipper or damaged his frenulum having a drunken, hard wank. Tentatively he put his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and took a deep breath before pulling them down and glancing at his cock in shock, surprise and horror at what lay beyond.

A ring. He had a bloody silver ring through his knob. Right through it.

John began sweating and he jumped from the bed, kicking off his jeans and rushing to the full length mirror in the corner of his room, with his shirt tails occasionally brushing against his hand as he looked at his reflection. The silver ring glistened in the sunlight and John could only babble and blink as he tried to think of what happened the night before. He couldn’t remember leaving the nightclub after his third round of shots but he knew someone who might be able to help.

“Sherlock?” John screamed shrill and panicky “Sherlock can you come here?”

Sherlock was quick and nimble as he took the stairs to John’s bedroom, opening the door with a small frown of what looked like worry. He paused when he saw John, stepping back and half turning away at his nakedness, lifting his brow and opening his mouth speak. That was, of course, before he noticed the piercing. Sherlock blinked, moved in through the doorway again, and stared in astonishment at the sight with widening eyes, dark eyebrows lost under his fringe.

“Ah.” Was the first thing he said, grimacing in sympathy as he inspected John’s genitals with an inquisitive tilt of his head. “Um. Right.”

“How did this happen?!” John asked, pointing directly at his flaccid cock “I didn’t want this! It hurts Sherlock! Tell me why this happened. Read my shirt or something.”

Sherlock scowled at him and then shook his head, “How can you ask me how it happened? I'm not a clairvoyant – John, you were drunk,” he said to him slowly with a condescending sort of tone, looking him over. He actually gazed at his shirt, and then turned and looked at John’s trousers, finding his shoes kicked messily in the corner of the room. Sherlock cocked his head to one side, eyes flitting and fingers twitching as he did some sort of calculation in his head. “You bar hopped. Ended up at The Mayflower it looks like – That’s got to be a tad costly…”

John held his head and groaned “Oh god. We got chucked out. Tommy threw a punch at the bouncer. I had to intervene but we got kicked out… we -- I think we went to Camden.” John grimaced and looked down at his cock again “This really bloody hurts.”

Sherlock exhaled through his nose, “Camden. That's a bit of a distance. Yes. Well, there are quite the number of tattoo and piercing studios there. Surprised they did this with you being so smashed…could have been a dodgy sort of place,” he murmured, taking hold of John by his shoulders and then ushering him back to his bed. “Sit. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

“Why what are you going to do?! Don’t touch it!” John shrieked, standing back up from the bed “It hurts to even look at it! I think I might be sick…”

“Pull yourself together. You’re a bloody doctor, for crying out loud,” Sherlock huffed, pushing John back down. “Stay!”

“It’s my penis!” John shouted in reply, “My meat and two veg! My one eyed trouser snake! Now it’s got a bloody great spike rammed through it! I think I’m allowed to get a little bit freaked out”

Sherlock rolled his eyes “Technically it's a ring” he argued and left, returning quickly with the kit and his phone, the fingers of his right hand deftly shifting as he looked between the mobile and the box as he opened it, “Healing time can take from four weeks to six months – Fresh piercings may cause bleeding, swelling and inflammation,” he murmured, pulling out antiseptic.

“Yes, yes and yes!” John shouted, “I’ve got them all. Does it say it can cause loss of sensation? Please don’t say that it does. Oh god, what if I can’t have sex ever again? What if I go numb? Sherlock – what if it falls off?”

“You may dribble when urinating,” Sherlock read out as he ignored John's panicking. He moved close and nudged for John to tend to his own penis with the antiseptic. “Hm – Obvious risk of the jewellery becoming caught on clothing and therefore being pulled or torn out. Any large gauge or heavy jewellery can cause thinning of the tissue between the urethral opening and the healed fistula, developing accidental, as well as extremely thin jewellery can causing the same tearing in what is commonly referred to as the "cheese cutter effect", during either an unexpected torsion or wearing it over a long period of time, especially if the thin jewellery bears any weight.” Sherlock turned his phone to John. “No mention of loss of sensation.”

“I think I’m going to faint.” John gulped, looking pale and sweaty. “Why did those dickheads let me get this done? I’m going to murder them. I’m going to have Mycroft deport them for this.”

Sherlock gestured impatiently for John to tend to himself again and then sighed through his nose, crouching down and taking some antiseptic wipes and reaching for John’s genitals after a slight hesitation, “And what have we learnt?” He asked mockingly, glancing up into John’s face. “No more pub crawls – Or no drinking to excess at all.”

John blushed as he looked down at Sherlock and breathed heavily through his nose, clutching the bed sheets. “If it hurts, I’m going to knee you in the face… just a warning.”

With another sigh, Sherlock stood up and instead bend at the waist, reaching down to gently hold the base of John’s penis with his left hand, “Should I wear gloves?” He asked a second after he’d already circled his long and surprisingly warm fingers around John’s flaccid shaft.

“Bit late for that now. I’ve probably got plague or something. Oh fuck, what if I have hepatitis?” John asked, panic lacing his words again.

“You’re being stupid. Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock told him and then carefully dabbed the wipe across the dried blood on and around the head of John’s penis.

John slammed his eyes shut and bit his lip in pain before holding Sherlock’s hands against his penis to still him. “Just… give me a second. That’s very sore.” he winced “Jesus. I hate my friends.”

Sherlock hummed, “We can only hope they got something worse,” he told John to try and lighten the mood. “Perhaps a tattoo of something vulgar across their back?”

“Or a massive penis on their forehead.” John huffed, cracking open and eye and looking at Sherlock “Thank you. I know this is… weird.” he laughed “But I’m glad you’re helping. Thanks.”

“Yes, well, that’s because I’m your actual friend,” Sherlock told him with a twitch of his eyebrow and a small smile, glancing down at his hands. “Can I move now? It’s imperative that you make sure everything is…cleaned.”

“What? Oh yeah.” John said, releasing his death grip on Sherlock’s wrists and allowing Sherlock to move his hands from his shaft. “Sorry.”

There was silence for a few beats before John spoke again “You’re not just my actual friend. You’re my best friend. You know that right?”

Sherlock flushed at his words and nodded with another smile, “At least this suits you,” he suddenly murmured, gesturing briefly as he then continued to dab around the piercing, keeping an eye on John’s face between swipes. “Would have been worse if it didn’t even look pleasant.”

“You think my penis looks pleasant?” John smiled, “it has a massive lump of silver in it! I’m not keeping it! There is no way!”

“Why not?” Sherlock asked him as he worked, moving to sit down beside him to get into a better position.

“I’m not a bloody 19 year old punk! I’m a middle aged doctor. I can’t be seen with -- this -- “ he said, waving a hand at his privates. “It looks like I’ve had a midlife crisis or a breakdown!”

“No it doesn’t,” Sherlock scoffed and frowned at him, tipping his head in thought as he reached for his mobile, searching the internet with several dexterous swipes of his fingers, “and you can have different styles of piercings in there. A curved barbell for one. They look nice.”

John licked his lips and looked down at Sherlock with a shrug “I’m not going to do anything yet. I’m still in shock, but yeah. We need to keep it clean and I’m not sure I can touch it yet. It’s too -- weird.”

“What on earth are you going to do when you need the loo?” Sherlock said with a short burst of deep laughter, glancing into John’s face and then shifting to peer a little closer at his genitals as he cleaned a little more. He gently pressed on and around the piercings and then moved back, getting another wipe to get every inch of John’s skin before letting him go.

“Salad tongs?” John joked sadly before rubbing at his face. “Right. I’m going to get my phone and give Tommy and the lads the bollocking of their life and then attempt to get rid of my hangover with more sleep and very strong coffee.”

Sherlock nodded and threw the wipes away, leaving the first-aid kit behind as he got back up on his feet, “I have my fingers crossed for the penis tattoo across the forehead,” he told John with a quirk to his mouth, taking his phone with him as he took his leave.


	2. The Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise to penises everywhere.

A few hours, and cups of coffee later, John was almost feeling well enough to get out of bed. He had already wrestled with the growing need to pee and forced himself out of bed to go. Holding the base of his penis and away from the tip, John had used the toilet and then cringed when he had to dab his tip with toilet paper before washing his hands extra thoroughly and climbing back into bed to think.

Now that he was feeling more normal, John climbed out of bed, stretched and then walked into the bathroom throwing a brief hello to Sherlock who was sitting at the kitchen table doing something horrible to something which looked even worse. He let the water run and undressed, catching a glimpse of the silver glinting in the sun before climbing under the spray.

His first mistake was to try to shower in general. His body so preconditioned to believe that shower time was wanking time and he had to fight with his body not to become aroused. It wasn’t that difficult when he thought of the needle being forced through the end of his cock.

Grabbing the loofah, John added his showergel and began to wash, humming quietly to himself as he worked on his upper half before moving to his lower. He felt a snag but thought nothing of it until he pulled the loofah away and also pulled the piercing which had caught on the rough material of his loofah brush. Screaming loudly, John yanked feeling it come away and his legs almost buckle as he continued shouting in pain.

There was a loud rumbling of footsteps and a scramble at the door before Sherlock barged in, eyes wide and a large kitchen knife in his hands. He looked around for a moment, blinked, turned to pull back the shower curtain and then frowned at John in concern and question. Putting the knife down after another glance around, Sherlock stepped quickly into the shower with him, getting his shirt and trousers wet without much care, and reached for John’s huddled form.

“John?” He asked with his voice tinged in anxiousness.

“My cock.” John whispered, tears streaming from his eyes to mix into the shower water. “I pulled it on the loofah and I think my foreskin has come off. Will you look? I can’t look. It feels like it came off.”

Sherlock frowned at him, leaning close to hear him over the rush of water, and then adjusted him, moving John’s arms and hands and glancing down, “It’s fine,” he told him, turning to point at the open bathroom door. “Everything is fine Mrs Hudson!”

Mrs Hudson’s blinked at Sherlock’s outstretched, shooing hand as she appeared at the doorway, “But that blood curdling scream—”

“Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock repeated, making sure to shield John behind him as he swiftly reached out to grab the door, shutting it. “Everything is fine.”

“Sorry Mrs Hudson.” John sniffed “Just hurt my -- toe”

Turning back to John, Sherlock looked back down at his penis, blinking water from his eyes, “There’s no blood or tearing,” he told John, gesturing with one of his hands, “can I?”

John could only nod silently, biting his lower lip and tensing his hands into a fist before closing his eyes tightly.

Sherlock gently cupped and then lifted John in his fingers, to inspect the sore and red skin, ever so carefully nudging the piercing to check, “It’s fine,” he told John once again. He let him go and then cupped John’s face, suddenly but cautiously kissing him.

John’s eyes flew open but he didn’t stop Sherlock, nor did he pull away. He seemed if anything to relax and slowly open his lips, returning the kiss and deepening it until his tongue flicked out and ran across Sherlock’s lip.

Cupping the back of John’s wet nape, Sherlock opened his mouth and tilted his head aside, allowing John more access. Sherlock’s own eyes were slightly open, his lashes keeping the water at bay, and he was looking down and away as he kissed John. His shirt was already completely transparent, clinging wet and heavy to his torso, his hair slicked smoothly to his head and plastered to his temples and neck.

John moaned and then stilled, finally understanding what was going on as he used his hands to press on Sherlock’s chest and push him gently away, careful not to send him flying in the slippy tub. “What are you doing?” John gasped, touching his lips “You kissed me! I was worried about my penis and you kissed me!”

John looked down at his cock and noticed it was starting to firm up, not entirely hard but enough to cause a prickling sensation at his tip “And now it’s hurting! Really hurting! This is your fault!”

“I was trying to distract you!” Sherlock retorted over the water and glowered half-heatedly, shrugging his shoulders and then gesturing with his arms. He pressed his lips together in a thin line; the droplets of water cascading down his face and throat. “It worked – For a few seconds, at least…”

“But now I have an almost erection and I didn’t want an erection because I didn’t want to make it hurt and now it has.” John huffed folding his arms and looking at Sherlock “I can’t believe you kissed me!”

Sherlock sighed, pushing back his soaking hair and exposing more of his face, “I admit that it was a little… unorthodox, but you must concede that—” He cut himself off and then blinked rapidly, looking down. “Why have you got an erection? Even half of one?”

“I don’t bloody know!” John stressed, blushing and looking away. He noticed Sherlock was still staring at his erection which only caused it to get bigger as he tried to hide it in his hands “Stop! Stop looking at my penis! It’s rude!”

“Rude?” Sherlock scoffed, lifting his amused gaze. “I was touching it a few moments ago!”

“Medically! You were medically handling my penis to check for tears or cuts. Now you’re just staring at it like a sex criminal! I can see you still looking!”

Sherlock’s mouth contorted on a stifled grin and he turned his head aside, before turning around completely, “Fine. Is this better?—Actually, I’ll just leave,” he said and stepped out, drenched with water and leaving growing puddles wherever he stepped. He peered back at John as he reached to pick back up the kitchen knife, and then opened the bathroom door to leave. “Try not to get yourself caught again.”

“Shut up.” John grumbled, before jerking his head up “And don’t tell Mrs Hudson about my cock!”

“Why would I?” Sherlock replied as he went, shutting the door behind him and then sighing loudly on the other side. “Mrs Hudson, go away!”

“But he sounded like he was in so much pain, dear—What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry yourself over.”

“…You’re soaking wet and damaging my carpet!”

“Go away!”

“Sherlock! Be nice!” John shouted before looking down at his cock with a deep sigh “The fucking things I do to myself.”


	3. Touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE COMES THE SMUT

Sherlock averted his eyes for the tenth time that day, having been checking John over and watching him carefully with a hint of caution and something else in his eyes for almost four weeks now. It was subtle thing, barely even perceptible, and John himself knew he would not have noticed if it weren’t for the fact that he had been unable to keep his mind off their shared kiss and the reactions that followed.

He’d never wanted to kiss Sherlock previously. Ever. It had obviously never crossed his mind even for a second. Why would it? John wasn’t gay. Far from it. Thousands of miles from it. So what was with his response? It had been a shock and it had, indeed, obviously distracted John from the pain in his genitals, as Sherlock had intended, but that didn’t explain why he returned it.

John was currently slamming around in the kitchen. He had already done the washing up whilst chuntering to himself angrily and now he was scrubbing out the oven and cursing Sherlock’s name, not that it was anything to do with Sherlock of course but it felt better being able to blame the detective rather than admit to himself that he had put off this particular job for months.

It didn’t take a deductive genius to realise that John was antsy. He seemed overly restless and very easily frustrated, driven to shouting for no reason and slamming doors in a way which would make a teenager envious and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Still not masturbated then?” Sherlock suddenly asked, having moved from where he had been sitting on his chair to now be leaning up against the wall of the kitchen. “Is that why you’re so…” He gestured and motioned toward John, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m not so --” John copied the gesture with a tut “Anything. I’m just a little annoyed that the cooker is this filthy.”

“You’re practically hormonal,” Sherlock snorted and watched him for a moment, tilting his head slowly. “Are you not healed yet?”

“Oh I’m sorry.” John said pulling his head out of the oven and showing the black gunk in his hands from the back of the appliance “Does it look like I want to talk about my penis? Or do you think I should carry on cleaning the oven since it’s more important.”

John continued mumbling angrily to himself, returning to the task at hand before seeming to get really angry and pulled back to look at Sherlock “and yes, for the record I am healed. Mostly. And my masturbation habits have nothing to do with you.”

Sherlock’s lifted his brow at him, “So you haven’t masturbated then – Well, perhaps you should? Blow off some steam. Get over this…mood of yours. It’s highly annoying and extremely unpleasant. Even Mrs Hudson has been avoiding you.”

John sighed and sat back, taking his now filthy latex gloves off to throw into the bin. “I didn’t mean to shout at her. She was just singing so loudly and I was trying to sleep. But I’m not in a mood! And I don’t think I’ve been that bad, have I?”

“Well…” Sherlock made a face, wrinkling his nose in a faint grimace before he nodded. “Yes. Yes, you have. Very bad.” He shot John a small grin and then strolled over to him. “So, as I said, perhaps you should go and…alleviate some tension, hm?”

“Jesus. You shoot the walls and murder your violin and yet you think I’ve been bad… must be awful.” John huffed “I can’t. Do that -- what you said. I can’t do it. I’m too scared that I’m going to hurt myself and I still don’t like touching the jewellery.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Just give it a try. Do something. I can’t abide you like this,” he said, giving John a look and then hauling him up, steering and shoving him toward his bedroom. “Go! Try it. Do something.”

“I’m not going to do it! Not when I know you’re nearby… knowing what I’m doing! I’ll get stage fright and it won’t work!” John insisted, looking at his feet.

“For God’s sake—You’re so frustrating,” Sherlock complained, pushing him onwards, up the stairs and into his room. “It’s not like I’m going to be standing outside your door.”

“No but it’s been a while and -- well, you know. It might be -- intense and noisy. I can’t always keep the noise down and I don’t want you to hear my… sex noises.” John blushed.

Sherlock turned him around and gave him a look, “I’ve heard them before,” he told him as if that made everything better.

“What? No you haven’t!” John replied angrily, “Since when?! How? Why?!”

Suddenly leaning close into John’s personal space, Sherlock glared, “We live together you, idiot!” He replied, giving John’s face a sudden and intense inspection. Sherlock pursed his mouth, looked considering and vaguely annoyed, and then let out a soft breath through his nose. “You said that I’m your best friend, right? – So, you trust me?”

“Of course, I do.” John frowned, obviously confused at the quick change of subject “with my life. You know that.”

“Good,” Sherlock nodded, smiling at him and then cupping his face, “keep a hold of that thought.” Before John could even take a breath in to begin to question him, Sherlock swooped in and kissed him with a warm mouth and a hot exhale.

John’s eyes widened as he tried to focus on Sherlock before they fluttered closed and Johns hands moved to Sherlock’s hips. He fought against the urge to return the kiss for a few moments before giving into temptation and kissing back passionate and desperate with a flick of his tongue.

Sherlock backed him up against a wall, pinning him there softly, and leaned in as he opened his mouth to give John more access, allowing the kiss to deepen. His hands remained on John’s face for a few minutes, caressing the edges of his ears and his hairline lightly, but then he moved them away to smooth down John’s arms.

John shivered and arched into the touch, feeling the first stirrings of arousal beginning and then blushing deeply at the realisation. He attempted to pull away only to be stopped by Sherlock pressing closer to him. “Sherlock.” John whispered nervously, looking at his friend with black blown eyes.

“What?” Sherlock breathed, quirking one eyebrow. “I’m helping.” He smiled slowly and adjusted his stance, leaning his head back to look into John’s face, eyes locked onto John’s mouth.

John stayed silent and nodded, allowing himself to be kissed again and again until his cock was straining and hard against his jeans. The piercing seemed to make it more sensitive and John moaned deeply into Sherlock’s mouth before pulling away again “Not here.” he whispered.

Sherlock looked annoyed and sighed sharply “Why not?” He asked with a frown, still vaguely stroking John’s arms, trailing his hands down to entwine their fingers.

“I need to lie down. Not stand up. It’s too -- “ John gave one of Sherlock’s signature gestures and then trailed off.

Stepping back, Sherlock rolled his eyes, seeming just a tad petulant, and nodded to the bed, “Fine. Lie down,” he said.

John nervously broke their connection and then stepped towards his bed, sitting on the edge and rubbing the back of his neck “Are you going to -- wank me off?”

“…You’re giving me options? Or are you telling me?” Sherlock asked, the twitch of his mouth very slightly predatory as he moved to stand before John. “Do you want that? Mm?”

John bit his lip and nodded, casually palming his cock with his hand unconsciously before blushing “Yes. Yes I want that.”

“All right then,” Sherlock shrugged and looked him over quietly, bending over him to press their cheeks together affectionately.

“Only if you want to do that? I mean -- I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do. I understand if you--” John stopped, unable to talk due to Sherlock swooping down and kissing him hard and rough. Stilling himself, John moaned and then tentatively let his hand run through Sherlock’s curls whilst his other hand remained on his tented crotch.

Sherlock pulled back with a slick separation of their lips and moved to sit on the bed, yanking and pulling John to him. He situated John between his legs with John’s around his waist, so they faced each other, and then kissed him again, leaving one hand at John’s head as his other hand moved down to undo and unzip him.

“If you react badly to this afterwards or tomorrow, I won’t be happy,” Sherlock murmured into his mouth.

“I think I’ll be fine.” John admitted with a smirk, lifting his hips to allow Sherlock to pull his trousers down further. When Sherlock ran his hands up and down John’s thighs, John sighed happily and ran his fingers through the silky strands of Sherlock’s hair “Please be gentle.”

“Why would I be anything else but that?” Sherlock said, kissing him a few times more on the mouth chastely as he reached to free and take hold of John’s erection in his dominant hand. He hefted him, lifting the thick, rigid length of John’s penis, and seemingly admired him from all angles with his fingertips alone, worshipping the hot skin without taking his lips away from John’s. “It really does suit you, you know.”

“You think?” John asked, looking down at his bejewelled cock “I must admit I'm warming to it. I don't want to touch it yet… but I no longer want to throw up when I look at it. Which I think is a good sign.”

John moaned deeply, closing his eyes and letting his hands slip into Sherlock's hair to stroke and pull softly as if anxious for Sherlock to properly begin.

“I think it’s sexy,” Sherlock admitted in a whisper with a faint curl at the end of his mouth. He stroked the base of John’s first, ignoring the head, and squeezed, kissing John with a slow, wavering inhale through his nose. “Were you told why it was you who decided on it rather than a tattoo or a piercing somewhere else? Or don’t your…friends remember?”

“Smithy ended up with a tattoo saying 'kiss me where I pee' and an arrow pointing to his genitals.” John explained with a huff of laughter “His wife hasn't had sex with him since. Apparently we played rock, paper, scissors about who was going to get it done, but the bastards had all planned it so I lost.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved his mouth down John’s throat, shifting closer to kiss and suck at the crook of John’s neck, “Good thing too,” he mumbled against the pulse point there, stroking John with a teasing rhythm, still ignoring the head of John’s cock for the time being.

“You really like it?” John asked, his eyes scrutinising Sherlock's face as he stroked the hair and tugged, tucking it behind his ears and then messing it up again so he could smooth it back down.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, glancing at him and then lifting his head to look at him properly with an arched eyebrow and an impish expression, eyes fluttering at every movement of John’s hands through his hair. “As I said, it suits you and it’s very sexy.” The way he said the last word seemed overly sinful. “I like piercings.”

John inhaled sharply and let his eyes close and his head loll at a particularly good stroke of his cock. He pushed his head against Sherlock's and rubbed their cheeks together, then brought his mouth down to nip at Sherlock's earlobe. “Do you have any?”

Sherlock was quiet for a long, telling moment, “It was a long time ago,” he answered, twisting his fingers around John’s shaft deftly before suddenly, and finally, touching the pierced tip with a low sound in his throat.

“W-What did you have?” John groaned, dropping his forehead to Sherlock's shoulder and tentatively touching his fingers up and down Sherlock's flexing arms.

“Ears, eyebrow, tongue,” Sherlock began, swiping his thumb across the piercing and John’s wet slit, and then down his frenulum, “nipples… and a few others.” He trailed off and then started stroking John completely, hand and fingers moving from base to tip in an increasing speed.

“Oh god.” John moaned, biting into the fabric of Sherlock's shirt and bucking his hips. He pulled away, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's shoulders and pulling him in for a deep, warming kiss as his hands tangled into the curls at the nape of his neck. “That feels good. Don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping,” Sherlock said cheekily, nipping at John’s bottom lip and gradually trailing his free hand up and down John’s back, and then down his front, palming one of John’s nipples through his shirt.

John hummed against Sherlock's lips and tried to shuffle closer to Sherlock on his bum. He held Sherlock's head tighter, deepening the kiss again and again until saliva covered their chins but he didn't care as his orgasm built, burning through his body like electricity and sending shocks through his limbs. The new piercing was making everything more intense, coupled with the month long abstinence from masturbation made John feel giddy and overly hot as he bucked his hips into Sherlock's grasp.

Sherlock moaned with a ragged vibration and increased the pace of his stroking, focusing just on the head for several long moments, playing and fingering against and around the piercing. When he returned to long, quickening, squeezing strokes, he nipped at John’s lip again and fidgeted nearer, nudging his nose to John’s cheek.

“I think – It's going to happen. Soon.” John gasped, his hands turning into claws to scratch down Sherlock's back and up his neck. “I'm going to come… Keep doing that. Just like that – just – just like that!”

John's volume was increasing as he bucked his hips, his head lolling and then finding Sherlock for deep kisses as the urge to ejaculate increased rapidly. “Now. Now. Sherlock!”

Exhaling a purring sort of growl, Sherlock moved to bite and suck at John’s neck suddenly, marking the skin there with possessive intent as he rubbed, stroked and twisted his hand around the head of John’s erection, tugging playfully at the piercing seconds before John’s orgasm crashed through him in a blinding flash and sharp, intense pleasure.

“Oh god” John wailed, grabbing Sherlock's hair and pulling it harshly as he jerked and shuddered through his orgasm. Long strands of pearly ejaculate flooded Sherlock's hands and the soft patch of blonde grey hair at the base of John's cock as the come trickled through the slit, dripping thickly down the metal ring to settle directly onto John's skin and Sherlock's hand. All words were evaporated through the force of his orgasm and he could only shake and make small hitching noises as his mouth sought Sherlock's own in comfort. “Sherlock… Thank you… thank you...”

Sherlock kissed him hard and deep, and then, unexpectedly, shoved John onto his back. He loomed over him, looking domineering and overly eager, and dipped down to take John’s still twitching erection into his mouth, tonguing the piercing and lapping at John’s taut skin. He was barely there for more than a few, shocking seconds, before he was nudging up to leave a fanatic mark at John’s pelvis and strongly yanking John up for a compulsive, fervent and dominant kiss, bullying his tongue into John’s mouth.

John could taste the musky ejaculate which had been taken into Sherlock's mouth and moaned, He had never tasted himself like this before and it seemed so erotic yet filthy at the same time that all he could do was open his mouth and then bite down on Sherlock's lower lip. John pulled open his shirt and then reached for Sherlock's, hesitating for a long second and looking up bashfully.

Leaning away from John, Sherlock stared at him with a dark gaze and breathed heavily through his nose, “I want to fuck you,” he told John blatantly, voice incredibly deep and resonating. He lifted his slicked hand and sucked his fingers clean, staring, unblinkingly, at John as he did so.

“Anally?” John asked, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly “You want to – fuck me? Like that?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, his other hand drifting to cup the prominent bulge in his trousers with a squeeze.

John blushed, looked away from Sherlock's piercing gaze and mumbled quietly, obviously unheard when Sherlock's large hand moved to cup John's chin and force him to look at him again. “Will it hurt?” John repeated, still quietly.

Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a shadow of a smirk, “Only if you want it to,” he replied playfully with an edge to his tone that made the air between them seem electrified. Sherlock shook his head gently. “No. It won’t hurt, doctor.”

“And if I want to stop – you will?” John asked, his eyes meeting Sherlock's in a tender look which momentarily stilled their heartbeats and made everything more tender.

“Of course,” Sherlock said with a soft frown as his posture changed and he leaned toward him. “You think I wouldn’t?” He eyed the mark he’d left on John’s neck briefly, swaying closer to rub noses with him and sigh, the atmosphere changing. “Tea?” Getting up, Sherlock wandered to leave the bedroom casually with a small smile in John’s direction.

“I want to. That. I want you to do that.” John insisted, half sitting up and reaching for Sherlock's arm to pull him back, “I'm sorry. I was just – I've never done this before. I was afraid but I know I can trust you. I'm sorry.”

Sherlock nodded and arched his eyebrow, “So, yes to tea then?” He asked.

“What? No. I don't – I don't want tea. I want...” John trailed off before whispering “Sex. I want to have sex with you.”

John couldn't help the furious blush which erupted over his cheeks and down his neck in dark blotches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the cliffhanger immensely.


	4. Bumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throwing in some surprises.
> 
> Prepare yourselves. It's about to get heated in here.

With a glint in his eyes and another twisting smirk, Sherlock gave John a once over, strolling to stand at the edge of the bed, “What was that?” He asked mischievously, reaching to push off John’s opened shirt.

John whimpered audibly, feeling the familiar submissiveness returning from his army days when his superior officer told him to do something. “I said, I want to have sex with you.”

“How do you want to have sex with me?” Sherlock asked, smoothing his palms down John’s chest and stomach, dipping a few fingers into his navel. He looked along John’s legs next, eyeing the crumpled and straining material of John’s trousers as he reached to ease it the rest of the way off.

John licked his lips, his eyes darting from Sherlock's eyes down to his hands and back again “I don't know. I've never – considered it. How would you want me?” he asked with another bloom of colour.

Sherlock gave a desired-filled huff of breath, “Oooh, let me count the ways…” He murmured with a sweep of his gaze over John’s naked body, expression hungry and lustful. Taking his time to actually answer, Sherlock touched, stroked, fondled and grasped at the entire expanse of John with eager but gentle caresses. He nudged and rearranged John, spreading him out across the bed, as if John were pinned there and ready to be thoroughly inspected. “I want you to look at me when I take you.”

John nodded strongly before reaching to entwine his fingers with Sherlock's own “Okay. Yes. I will. I'll look at you.”

“You realise that I’ll want to do this more than once,” Sherlock told him, squeezing their hands together and bending down to John, running his lips across his cheek with a low, humming moan. “A lot more.”

“I can't promise.” John whispered in reply, biting his lip “but I think I want that too.”

His recently sated penis was now attempting to harden again, lying heavily against his stomach as John arched up for a kiss and then lifted a hand to Sherlock's hair to stroke it back “Yes.”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch and he sighed happily, then kissed John with immense affection before he straightened up and went into John’s bedside table, pulling out a condom and John’s bottle of half used lubricant, giving the label a quick read. He then, instead of getting nude, as John thought he might do, got up onto the bed with him fully dressed and took his time teasing John’s front with his tongue, lips and teeth.

“Sherlock.” John begged, arching up to meet the touch and feeling the itch of his precome dripping against his stomach.

Ignoring him, Sherlock continued on, his hands moving to keep John’s arms trapped against the bed as he dipped to kiss and then bite at the piercing, lifting John’s half erection up with it very slowly. Nothing but Sherlock’s hot breath touched John’s penis and he continued to pull and wriggle the piercing for another minute and a half before he moved away, lathered John’s nipples with kisses, and then knelt up.“On your front,” He ordered softly, letting John’s arms go.

“Sherlock? I want to see you.” John whispered with confusion, his eyebrows meeting in the middle although he did turn over, careful to position his penis so that he wasn't pulling on the ring.

Sherlock grinned and leaned back down to put his mouth to John’s nape, “You will,” he said, stroking the dip of his spine, “when I fuck you – I’m not going to do that just yet.” He nuzzled up into John’s hair. “All right?”

John nodded quickly and then dropped his head to the pillow, closing his eyes and taking deep calming breaths as he waited for Sherlock to touch him.

As he had at John’s front, Sherlock kissed, licked and nipped at his back, massaging up and over his hips. He paused at the curve of John’s backside and stroked, squeezing, kneading, and lightly tapping his buttocks with a playful attitude. 

“You have a great arse, you know,” He told John conversationally with his mouth pushed to John’s lower back.

Looking over his shoulder, John laughed “Do I? I've never been complimented on it before.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Sherlock said, lifting his head and smiling arrogantly at him as he lifted one hand and then brought it down in a short, sharp smack. He glanced down fleetingly to watch the impact with a cheeky grin.

Jumping with a yelp, John's face burnt with a blush but it was plainly obvious that he had enjoyed the slap due to the twitching in his arse cheeks and upper thighs as he rubbed himself against his mattress. He groaned deeply and spread his legs wider, showing off his slightly furred testicles between his thighs.

Sherlock rubbed the mark he’d left soothingly, “I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he said, grabbing John’s bum again and wiggling his fingers as he spread him very deliberately.

“My arse isn't anything special. Unlike yours.” John hummed, sounding groggy and overly aroused despite his orgasm minutes before. “Your arse is spectacular. Like a work of art.”

“Been looking, have you?” Sherlock murmured as he cupped John’s hips and urged him up on his knees. He didn’t let John get used to the position or even give him much time to be shy about it, as he pushed in to lick boldly between his buttocks, zeroing in on the intimate clench of skin between them.

“Only when you bend at crime sce—EEEEEENS!” John shouted, grabbing the covers and then turning to stare at Sherlock, shocked and in disbelief at the strange sensation of a wet tongue inbetween his buttocks for the first time. “Sherlock!” he gasped, “Sherlock that's… oh god it's so dirty but fuck, it feels good.”

John held the bedding tight and circled his hips before looking over his shoulder at the mop of dark curls just visible over the curve of his buttocks. “I showered earlier. I should be clean.” John promised, blushing and dropping his head to the bed.

“I know. I wouldn't do this if you weren't.” Sherlock said before moving back to John rear. He circled, stroked, flicked and wriggled his tongue against John for several minutes, keeping up the almost torturous motions until John began to squirm instinctively, trying to push back and buck forward at the same time. Moving suddenly away, Sherlock bit John’s left buttock, and then reached for the lube, opening the cap noisily and smirking widely.

John tensed at the sound but took in a deep breath and let his head fall forward. Inside he was panicking ever so slightly, but his mind was attempting to calm his racing heartbeat by reminding himself that this was Sherlock. His best friend. The man who had cared for him so diligently since the day they met. He was safe in Sherlock's arms (as cliché as that sounded). John's muscles relaxed and he shivered at the stinging of the bite on his buttock whilst enjoying the mix of pleasure and pain.

The first touch of Sherlock’s slicked and warm fingers was jolting, but Sherlock soothed his other hand up and down John’s back, “You know how easy it can be. Being a doctor. Just relax,” he rumbled, his large hand sweeping along to cup and hold his nape as the wet, slippery fingers at John’s backside rocked and pushed against him in an oddly comforting swaying motion.

“I'm more used to doing it the other way.” John chuckled, taking a deep breath in and relaxing as much as possible “Feels weird like this. Exposed. I feel like I'm on display.”

“You are,” Sherlock said with an underlying, aroused growl to his voice, “but only to me.”

“You're the only person id do this with.” John admitted with a deep moan when Sherlock's finger circled his hole again. “The only person I trust enough”

Sherlock rubbed all four of his fingers against John eagerly, “Good,” he husked and stroked for another few seconds more before he pushed a finger inside John deftly and painlessly with only a short amount of pressure, taking advantage of John being distracted.

“Mmmm!” John moaned, clenching down on Sherlock's finger and shuddering “That's-- that's an unusual feeling.”

Sherlock hummed and reached in to very quickly find his prostate, giving it a light and brief touch, and then a longer, teasing one, “Good?”

John jolted forward and hit his head against his headboard with a deep groan. His legs shook and almost give way as John lowered his head and moaned into the pillow “Ye-es. Very”

Slowly, with yet another stroke of John’s prostate, Sherlock began to thrust his finger pleasingly in and out of him, twisting it around slickly, “I can’t wait to have you,” he told John with a low, husky tone.

“I can't either.” John admitted with a bucking of his hips. “Honestly, I'm shaking with – desire.” he blushed. His cock was dripping with precome, soaking the bedding beneath him as his piercing rubbed against the fabric. 

Sherlock kept up the finger movements for what felt like an eternity until he pulled it out, applied more lube, rocked and stroked against John again to ease in two fingers, and began teasing his prostate with the textured tips of his fingers. With a shaking breath and a deep sound in his chest, Sherlock made sure John was relaxed and comfortable before he began thrusting the two fingers into him, breathing heavily. 

“Fuck...Fuck...Fuck...” John grunted with every thrust. His nerves and synapses were screaming with pleasure, leaving him light headed and sweating as his heart pounded in his chest. John could only hold on to the mattress and rock back and forth with every thrust, attempting to get Sherlock deeper inside him. “Another. Please. Another?” he asked in desperation.

With a loud sigh of desire, Sherlock pressed a third finger into him in a slow and careful glide, holding John still strongly as he did so, “So greedy,” he purred throatily.

“Your fingers. Your – so long. Thick. Fuck.” John was past being able to make complete sentences and could only grunt and mutter in pleasure as he was stretched wide around callused fingers.

Sherlock moved his fingers in and out of John with gaining speed, twisting and spreading them slightly while he leaned down to kiss and nipped at John’s lower back. He alternated between short, quick thrusts of his fingers, to long, deep ones, touching and playing with John’s prostate, all movement a burst of slick, wriggling pleasure.

“Christ. Sherlock please.” John begged, not entirely sure what he was saying as he spread his legs wider to get better power for thrusting back onto Sherlock's fingers. “Want to see you. Please?”

His long, clever fingers moved in and out of him for another several seconds, before they disappeared completely and Sherlock took hold of his hips, “Turn over,” he told him, kissing John’s back quickly.

John scrabbled on the bed to twist onto his back, letting his legs stay wide and open for Sherlock to fit into. It was only at this point that John realised that Sherlock was still fully dressed, albeit slightly sweaty and flustered “I want to see you. To see – it.”

“It?” Sherlock repeated with an arch of his eyebrow and a smirk, wiping his hand on the bed as he leaned down to kiss the head of John’s wet penis.

“Your – your penis.” John blushed crimson, arching up in an attempt to push more of his cock into Sherlock's mouth. “I want to see it.”

Moving back and straightening up on his knees, Sherlock huffed with another smirk and reached up, undoing his shirt, “You will,” he promised, making quick work of his buttons. He was topless in a flash, his pale, toned torso mottled with a blotchy flush, and his nipples pebbled and pierced with small, silver barbells.

John gaped, licked his lips and then moved his hand to touch Sherlock's waist, running his hand up towards Sherlock's nipples “You've still got them?” he asked in shock “I've never noticed. With your tight shirts… how did I not notice?”

“I don’t always wear them and the jewellery is small, so no one does notice,” Sherlock told him, swaying close and letting him touch with a tremble through his abdomen muscles and a sigh of pleasure, flushing in the face. He worked quickly on his trousers, undoing the belt first. “Do you like them?”

“Yes.” John moaned, rolling the metal bars between his fingers and tentatively pulling and twisting Sherlock's nipples as his own cock throbbed hotly between his legs. 

Sherlock arched and shuddered in delight, leaning further toward him with a widening grin, “Good,” he groaned, dipping down to kiss him eagerly and then moving away to open and push down his trousers and underwear, exposing the impressive sight of his erection and a “ladder” of silver barbell piercings up the underside of it. Sherlock dropped his clothes off the side of the bed and shuffled between John’s legs again, his pink tipped penis bouncing tautly in front of him with a glint of metal.

“Holy fuck.” John gasped, dropping back to stare at the metal along Sherlock's shaft before running a finger up and down the bumps under the skin “No wonder you knew how to look after mine. That is – well, it's amazing.”

“It's not the same type of piercing, but it's fairly standard advice for most genital piercings.” Sherlock smirked, tilting his he watched John stare “I’m glad you like them,” Sherlock told him, looking smug and happy at the praise as he reached for the condom packet, ripping it open. He eyed John with a quirk to his mouth and shifted closer still, angling his hips forward for John to touch him as much as he wanted.

“Before you put it on...” John nodded towards the condom “Can I...” 

Without waiting permission, John shuffled onto his front and took a closer look at Sherlock's prick. The rosy tip was leaking precome and John didn't feel brave enough to try to suck on it but he lowered his head and let his tongue lap at the piercings, following the ladder up and down before looking up at Sherlock through his lashes “Is that okay?” he asked self-consciously.

Sherlock reached to cup and stroke his jaw, “Yes,” he huffed in amusement, dragging his fingers up and into John’s hair to grip playfully. “But I really would rather fuck you right now – You can play with me later.”

John twisted his head and placed a shockingly intimate kiss on Sherlock's wrist. Maintaining eye contact, John moved back so his head was placed on the pillow and his legs were opened wide with his feet flat on the bed, his cock shiny with precome laying against his stomach. “This way?” he asked “Or do you want me differently?”

Sherlock shook his head and swooped low to trail his tongue up John’s body to his ear, “Tell me you want me,” he whispered, rubbing their cheeks together.

“I want you.” John repeated, his voice husky “I want you, god. It scares me how much I want you.”

Kissing John’s jaw, Sherlock moved back and slipped on the condom, making sure it was covering him and his piercings completely and comfortably, and coating it with lubricant. He kept his eyes on John as he slicked himself up, his right hand shifting up and down the rigid length of his penis, while his left hand stroked up John’s leg. Once he was finished he applied more lube between John’s buttocks, shuffled forward, braced himself on his elbows about John, and reached down to touch John with his fingers to push three fingers into him again.

“Just making sure,” He murmured, kissing John on the mouth, “lift your hips a bit.”

John looked up and grabbed one of his pillows, putting it under his hips and watching Sherlock for confirmation. When Sherlock nodded, John placed his feet flat again and arched up slightly, his hand moving to stroke himself absently.

“Kiss me,” Sherlock breathed, nudging John with his nose and smiling as he adjusted his position and slipped out his fingers.

John surged up, grabbing Sherlock and pulling him down for a sloppy yet passionate kiss. He slipped his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and used his spare hand to stroke through Sherlock's hair, stroking and petting it lightly.

As they kissed Sherlock pushed his hips forward and breached John slowly, exhaling a breath as the head of his erection slipped slickly inside. He paused and then moved up, tipping his head to look between their bodies, staring with a tensed body and a wavering sigh, and then pressed further forward with a deep sound in the back of his throat.

“Oh” John gasped, his eyes open wide. Even with the preparation Sherlock had done, there was still a harsh sting which made John slam his eyes closed and exhale with a shaky breath “Hold on. Hold on just a second. Let me just –“ he trailed off and exhaled through his nose with a grimace.

Sherlock stopped moving again and kissed him, “Should have tried four fingers,” he joked and chuckled, making his penis jump and vibrate.

John chuckled in response and then winced again as his hole clenched and tightened “I guess the nickname 'tight arse' was apt.” he smirked and rolled his hips “Okay, now try a bit further.”

The next several inches glided in easily before there was the first cool bumps of his piercings, which rubbed against where John was stretched open with a teasing judder, “Mm?” He asked without actually using words.

John grasped Sherlock's arms with talon like grips. His eyes wide as the bumps pushed into him, giving a textured sensation which sent fireworks behind John's eyes “Oh yes.” he groaned, eyes rolling back “Don't stop.”

Rolling his hips eagerly, Sherlock moaned in reply and continued to push into him, the piercings popping in one by one until he was fully pressed within John. Sherlock sighed happily and shifted up on his arms, looking down between them again to see how snugly he was pressed between John’s legs. He wriggled a little, rotating and canting his him to suddenly rub his erection up along John’s prostate, and smirked widely with a flushed face and gleaming eyes.

“Yes!” John gasped, rolling his hips in an attempt to have Sherlock's cock press against his prostate again. His hands grabbed Sherlock, his nails raking along Sherlock's sweat covered back as he wrapped his legs around his waist and rocked. “Pull out and push back in.” he asked with a desperate whine.

“Ask nicely,” Sherlock rumbled deeply with a nip to John’s lips, shifting in a teasing sway and angling his hips again to touch his prostate with a humming groan, touching John’s face and neck.

“Please?” John begged, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked up at Sherlock and scrabbled for his arms and shoulders again, slapping the sweaty skin gently as his pleasure sent a shiver through him “Please, Sherlock? Please.”

Sherlock slipped one hand to cradle the back of John's head and neck, and shifted, sliding out of John with a drag of his piercings and twitch of his penis, before pushing back in again. He kept the movements slow and tantalisingly teasing, his intense gaze looked onto John's face. He withdrew again with a low groan and angled his hips on the push back to grind along John's prostate.

John moaned, his eyes fluttering closed and his own cock giving a throb of arousal with a dripping of precome along his stomach which was smeared between their bodies. John couldn't seem to stop touching Sherlock, running his hands up and down his arms and shoulders, up to his hair to pull and stroke and then down to fiddle with the barbells in Sherlock's nipples. 

Hissing with pleasure, Sherlock jerked into John a little more eagerly at the touch to his nipples and arched his head back, rocking into John with gathering rhythm and speed, the flush on his face and neck deepening. He moved above John fluidly with only the barest of tremors through his body, his breathing shaking as he built up speed and desire. The hand at John’s neck stroked and carded up the back of his skull, lifting him with a demanding sort of pressure, bringing John’s head up toward Sherlock’s heaving chest.

Realising what Sherlock wanted, John licked the left nipple first. He slicked his tongue around the swollen nub and its jewellery before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard, flicking his tongue over it whilst maintaining suction. Sherlock's moans and groans were urging John on, forcing him to give more pleasure as he lifted his trembling hand to stroke the right one in time.

“Take it off.” John moaned, his mouth red from the suction and glistening with saliva “the condom. Take it off.”

Sherlock blinked and then turned his head down to him with a faint crease between his eyebrows, “What?” He asked breathlessly, pushing John back down onto the bed to look at him properly. Sherlock squinted at him, having stopped all movement of his body with a tremble. “Are you…quite sure? – It might be best to keep it on, John.”

“Off.” John insisted, blinking from the haze of arousal to demonstrate how much he wanted it. “I've never done it with anybody else. I'm clean and I know you are. I want to feel it properly, I want to feel the piercings and whether they're cold or warm. I want to know what it feels like to feel you – finish inside me.

Blushing darkly in the face, Sherlock stared down at him for a moment or two more, and then slipped out and away. He slowly, almost hesitantly, took off the condom, letting his erection bounce free between John’s legs with a glint of silver and a throb. The head of his cock was glistening wet and a dusky pink, the pale skin of his shaft a little flushed in eagerness. Sherlock reached for the lubricant, coated his naked length with it copiously, and then moved back close, positioning himself back at where John was wet, sensitive and open. The slide back in was deliberately languid and Sherlock exhaled on a vibrating moan, closing his eyes as the first set of barbell piercings popped through, dragging firm, slicked metal against John.

“Oh” John whispered, eyes wide as he looked between their bodies. He could just see the base of Sherlock's cock getting closer to his body and he let his head drop back to the pillow with a dull thud. “Sherlock” he breathed.

Sherlock leaned down to kiss him, “Yes,” he moaned quietly, cupping John’s head again and shifting to push deeper.

John arched his back with a particularly harsh thrust against his prostate. Thick precome trickled from his cock and ran down his torso as he lifted his hands and grabbed Sherlock's nipples. He hadn't intended to be so rough, but the quick, hard thrusts caused him to pull and twist roughly, nipping them between his fingers.

Growling in pleasure, Sherlock bucked in response, rocking into him harder and biting down on John’s bottom lip, “Mm,” he hummed, clutching at John’s shoulder and head as he worked up a zealous pace, bouncing John against and along the bed as he rutted into him with a rub of his piercings.

“You like that?” John asked, surging up for a kiss as he pulled on Sherlock's nipples again, harder this time as he lifted his hips in time to Sherlock's thrusts, feeling his orgasm lying low in his abdomen. John didn't want to touch himself just yet as he was afraid that he might come almost immediately.

Twisting his torso, Sherlock shuddered and panted into John’s mouth, snapping his hips against him fleetingly, before he rolled and undulated them, caressing John’s prostate with each motion, “Yes,” he replied through his teeth, clenching his eyes shut for a few moments of bliss, his erection physically jerking inside John.

John did it again and again, feeling the urgency of Sherlock's thrusts as they pounded together. John could feel his stomach slick with precome and sweat, desperate gasps escaped his lips as his orgasm built and built, burning through him like an inferno. “Sherlock… I'm close.” he cried out, pinching Sherlock's nipples hard and wrapping his legs around Sherlock's waist “Can I?”

Sherlock grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head and bent down, marking his throat and part of his collarbone, “Can you what, John?” He purred, slowing down his movements for several teasing moments, and then speeding up again with a slap of skin, grinding and rubbing his piercings into him over and over, whilst angling to hit his prostate.

John moaned loudly and arched up, attempting to get more friction on his cock only for Sherlock to angle his hips away. “Please!” John cried, voice becoming hoarse “Please let me come. May I come? Please, Sherlock”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a husky voice, smearing his mouth along John’s jaw with a smirk and a groan, “you may.” He kept a hold of John’s wrist, keeping them locked in place, and began to rock bodily against him, pressing his pelvis and stomach down onto John’s straining erection as he rutted in quick, overly stimulating thrusts inside him, rotating his hips to keep up the nudging and rubbing of John’s prostate.

John wasn't sure he could come without wrapping his hand around his cock, but as Sherlock rutted and pressed his strong stomach muscles against John's shaft, the overwhelming sensation of orgasm began to build and build. John began making soft little 'uh' noises as he pushed up against Sherlock, his wet belly giving the perfect lubrication to his cock as it was massaged by Sherlock's abs. John felt the tension grow and then finally snap with a blinding crash of pleasure which made him freeze in place with a loud and filthy groan.

Between their bodies, John's cock twitched, throbbed and then burst with thick stripes of come which were immediately rubbed between their bodies. John could only clench his fingers into his palms, leaving half crescents in the skin as he moaned Sherlock's name and clenched down tightly on Sherlock's cock, feeling the piercings against his rim which sent another spark of orgasm through him.

Sherlock gruffly exclaimed in pleasure at the rippling spasm and increased his movements, thrusting into John with huffing, strained and panting breaths, his eyelids fluttering. He moved into him erratically, bending for a messy kiss when his hips stuttered and he went taut with a whimpering-like hiss. Sherlock pushed deep inside John, rocked against John’s prostate to further prolong John’s sharply biting climax, and then spilled hot, thick and hard within him in several strong twitches of his penis.

John managed to break the hold of Sherlock's hands around his wrists and reached up, tightening his arms around Sherlock's neck he pulled him down for a kiss and stroked his hands along Sherlock's slick soaked back, feeling the raised skin where he had raked at it with his nails earlier. John turned the kiss tender, slow and gentle as they both recovered from their blistering orgasms, sighing and moaning into one another's mouths before pulling away and resting their foreheads together. 

For a few seconds, Sherlock merely breathed heavily and rubbed their sweaty brows together, but then he collapsed on top of him with a grunt and a moan, plastering himself to John and turning his head aside to kiss the crook of his neck. His body continued to quiver with intermittent contractions of his muscles and hips, and he let out a long, humming moan, closing his eyes with a brush of lashes along the skin of John’s throat.

“That was – “ John trailed off before breaking into a deep chuckle which vibrated through his body until he was clenching down on Sherlock's penis “That was insanely good. I can't believe I've just done that. I can't believe I've been missing out on that all my life.”

“You’re welcome,” Sherlock murmured, sounding playfully arrogant. He huffed with a short rumble of laughter and pulled up, kissing his way to John’s mouth before he glanced between them and shifted his hips, rubbing up inside of John, almost reluctant to leave.

“I think two is all I have in me.” John mumbled against Sherlock's lips “I'm an old man. I haven't orgasmed twice in such a short time in years.”

Sherlock smiled and kissed him a few times more, lingering longer and longer each time, “You’re not that old,” he said, rolling to rub his piercings against John again. He pulled out and away after his erection softened and twitched, grinning down at John, glancing briefly down as he slid free, along with a warm, thick dribble of ejaculate.

“Oh my god.” John grimaced, looking utterly disgusted “That feels awful. It's all… wet and slimy. Urgh! It's going on my bed!” 

John clenched his buttocks and winced at the sharp sting of his hole before he cupped himself and climbed from the bed. He grabbed a towel which he had used to shower with earlier in the day and pressed it between his buttocks as he looked over his shoulder at Sherlock who was still watching from the bed. “Shut up. Don't look at me like that!”

“You asked for it. Begged, really,” Sherlock told him with a look of pure smugness on his face. He stretched and shifted, uncaring of his naked and flushed body, and flexed his legs as he slowly got up. 

“Begged is a bit far. I politely requested it. Next time I get to do you.” John blushed, waddling towards the small toilet attached to his room. “Please don't listen whilst I use the bathroom. It's disgusting.” 

Sherlock swiftly and far too elegantly caught up with John and turned him around, cupping his face to kiss him, their slicked torsos pressing together, “You’re so…” he trailed off with an overly eager groan and reached around to squeeze John’s buttocks fervently.

John moaned into Sherlock's mouth and pulled away after a few long moments of passionate snogging “Stop it, I'm dripping everywhere” 

“I like it,” Sherlock husked, squeezing him again and yanking him close. “I really like it.” He pushed one hand passed the towel and rubbed the still warm ejaculate into the skin of John’s buttocks and upper thighs, as if to brand him and mark him with his essence. 

John stepped back in surprise at Sherlock's behaviour and lifted an eyebrow “let me go to the bathroom and I'll come back. We can get back into bed… I'll put a towel down on the wet bits. We can – talk about what this is.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Sherlock said, eyeing John up and then following him with a step forward, bending to kiss him softly on the cheek, ear and neck.

“Do you want to keep doing this?” John asked, clenching the towel between his bum cheeks so that his hands were free to roam over Sherlock's stomach and chest, thumbing at his nipples. 

“Oh yes,” Sherlock replied, happy and shivering at John’s touch. “I told you before that I’d want to do it more than once…” He scattered more kisses over John’s face and then stroked down his shoulders and arms, looking utterly infatuated and adoring.

“And – is it just the sex?” John asked quietly, his stomach clenching with nerves “Or do you want this to be something we do – exclusively? As-- As a couple?”

Sherlock paused and looked at him in the eyes, tilting his head, “You want us to be a couple,” he said in a soft mumble, not exactly stating it as a question. He stroked up to John’s head, cupping his cheeks and shot him a small smile.

“I want us to be exclusive.” John said, looking away bashfully “I don't want to date other people. I just – want you.”

“I’ve always wanted you,” Sherlock told him as his answer, kissing him.

John blinked and tilted his head, looking into Sherlock's eyes and then kissing him softly with a stroking of his hair. Not trusting himself to speak, John simply nodded and kissed Sherlock again.

“Tea?” Sherlock asked quietly, stroking John’s jawline tenderly and half embracing him with warm, naked skin.

“Please.” John nodded, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Sherlock and running his fingers through the dark strands “I'm going to have a quick shower and then I'll be with you. Shall we get Chinese?”

Sherlock all but purred at the affections and nodded, “I’ll order,” he told him, giving him one last kiss before he turned to gather up his clothes and pad down to his own bedroom, the dimples above his backside winking at John as he moved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate when fics/porn/film & TV don't show the truth of having sex without a condom. It's all slick and horrible and it gets every-bloody-where. Which is why I always try and show the truth as much as I can... Plus John standing with a towel clamped between his buttocks is hilariously adorable.


	5. Lestrade knows it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Sherlock and Greg go to a pub quiz. It's only semi-awkward.

John climbed from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. The music from his Ipod was still playing which allowed him to have a small wiggle around the bathroom as he put on deodorant, shaved and then styled his hair. He opened the windows and walked into the bedroom he now shared (mostly) with Sherlock and lifted out a pair of jeans and a white shirt to put on, along with socks and underwear. Dropping the towel, John stepped into his pants and ensured his piercing didn't catch as he got dressed and spritzed himself with cologne.

“Sherlock?” He called out, knowing the detective was at the kitchen table before he left for his shower “make sure you eat something. There's the Chinese leftovers in the fridge. I won't be late.”

Sherlock appeared at the bedroom doorway the moment John went to walk through it, making him jump, “Where are you going?” He demanded in a sulky and suspicious tone, eyes flitting over him.

“Going to meet Lestrade in the pub. It's quiz night. You know I go out every week.” John explained, attempting to step past Sherlock only for the other man to move to block him each time. “Sherlock! Behave.”

“You’ve put on cologne,” Sherlock intoned and then grabbed John’s wrist in a somewhat steely grip. He looked possessive and had straightened to his full height intimidatingly.

“I always put on cologne when I go out. Just because you shagged me once doesn't mean I'm going to turn into a tramp.” John said, meeting Sherlock's eye “What is this? Are you – are you jealous?”

Sherlock’s right eye twitched, “No,” he replied shortly, still holding on to John’s wrist, his thumb smoothing over John’s pulse. “I don’t want you to go. Stay home.”

“Sherlock.” John whispered, stretching up to give him a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth “I'm not going to stay in. I'm going to go out, have a few drinks and attempt to win a poxy pub quiz and then I'm going to come home. To you. To this.” he explained, his spare hand brushing the curls from Sherlock's face. “Whether I wear cologne or not doesn't change the fact that we agreed to be exclusive. Nothing is going to happen.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched and he closed his eyes at the touch of John’s hand, “I’ll come with you then,” he said after a moment, flashing John a forced smile.

“Fine. If that's what you want.” John nodded, tilting his head “You'll probably be a good team mate for the science rounds. Don't feel like you need to force yourself out, you're welcome any time, you know this.”

Bending down to kiss John on the mouth deeply, Sherlock finally, almost grudgingly, let go of John’s wrist and stepped around him to slip his shoes on. He didn’t speak but he seemed slightly relieved, if only a little.

“Do you want to hold hands on the way?” John asked, shrugging on his coat and shoes as he picked up his wallet, keys and phone.

“No,” Sherlock replied casually as he swung on his own coat. He moved to John and smiled at him briefly, leaning for another kiss, and then pulled out his own phone as they made their way out onto the pavement, where Sherlock flagged down a cab easily.

John gave the name of the pub and then relaxed back into his seat. He used his fingers to drum against his own thigh before sneaking his hand over to Sherlock's knee where he left it laying gently.

Sherlock was sitting close, closer than he normally would, and one of his arms was rest across the back, so his fingers could slip into the short hair at the back of John’s head. He caressed the edge of one of John’s ears, tickling the patch of skin behind, and then ran his fingertips down John’s collar to stroke his nape.

They sat like this, just enjoying the comfort of one another until the cabbie pulled up outside the pub and flicked on the overhead light. John reached for his wallet and paid the fare before climbing out and tilting his head. “You ready?” he asked, giving one of Sherlock's hands a squeeze before walking towards the pub which was already mostly full and becoming rowdy.

“Hello Beryl.” John smiled at the landlady, giving her a wink “Is he here yet?”

“Sitting in the back, as usual.” the woman replied, her jowls wobbling with every movement and her false eye tilting slightly inwards as she nodded towards Greg and John's favourite seat “Saved it for you.”

“You're a good one.” John laughed, looking at Sherlock “What do you want to drink?”

Sherlock’s arm was suddenly warm and heavy across John’s shoulders, possessively clutching him to Sherlock’s side, “Scotch,” he rumbled as he looked around, eyes shifting through the crowds and remaining on a few people before he turned to peer over at Lestrade.

“Two pints of bitter and a scotch please.” John smiled, moving his hand to Sherlock's waist and squeezing before shifting away from Sherlock's arm around his shoulders. John watched from the corner of his eye as Sherlock frowned at the gesture but John was soon paying for the pints and then walking towards Lestrade with a friendly and open smile 

“Hello mate, fancy seeing you here.” John laughed passing Greg a fresh pint.

Before Lestrade could reply, Sherlock’s arm was back over John’s shoulders again, and the sight made Lestrade blink in confusion for a moment, “Um. Yeah – Decided to finally join us have you Sherlock? The more the merrier! Although I didn’t think this was quite your scene?” He asked the detective, who shrugged in reply and sipped at his scotch. Lestrade’s brow furrowed briefly and he glanced at John with a questioning look.

John smiled tightly and leaned away from Sherlock's embrace “He was excited to come out. He wanted to help on the quiz.” John said as he turned to Sherlock, looking apologetic “It's not that I don't want your arm on me. Its just – “ he looked around the pub and then back at Sherlock “You understand?”

“No,” Sherlock said curtly with a look of annoyance, though John was sure he understood completely.

“Sit down then,” Lestrade told them both with a grin, rubbing his hands together. “Pretty sure we have this in the bag with Sherlock on our team.”

“Unless the specialist subject is anything to do with popular culture or celebrities...” John laughed, sitting down and taking a drink before sitting forward and beginning to talk to Greg about the most recent football game and how the referee had robbed the team. John ensured he focussed some attention on Sherlock but it was hard when Sherlock did nothing but look around and glare “Sherlock? Lestrade just asked you a question. He asked whether you found the cold case file on the superglue murder? Did we have it at home? I don't think I've ever seen it.”

“Possibly,” Sherlock murmured, hand suddenly on John’s knee under the table with a warm pressure. He finished his scotch in one gulp and then put the empty glass down, tapping the rim of it with a look crossed with boredom and displeasure.

John froze perceptively and then relaxed, throwing a smile at Lestrade as he focussed “The quiz will be starting soon.”

“Yeah…” Lestrade mumbled, eyeing both of the men up and cocking an eyebrow in John’s direction when Sherlock turned his head to look across the room.

John blushed and cleared his throat, giving a shrug and then dropping one of the beer mats onto the floor. He gestured to Lestrade who clearly understood and bent down to pick it up, looking under the table and seeing Sherlock's hand on John's leg. John waited for Greg to come back up before giving a hesitant smile.

Blinking, Lestrade lifted his brow high in shock, obviously wanting to say something but keeping it back and clearing his expression when Sherlock’s gaze returned. Lestrade put the mat back on the table and took a deep gulp of his beer with a friendly grin, giving away nothing as he lounged back in his chair and sighed.

Sherlock, who didn’t seem to suspect anything, kept his hand on John’s leg and remained quiet, scowling at a few women who looked toward their table.

The man in charge of the quiz walked around giving the tables the answer sheets and stilling at the table when he recognised Sherlock. He handed the papers around and then walked away, looking back every few steps as if starstruck by Sherlock Holmes. 

“You have to name the celebrities in this round.” John said, taking a deep gulp of his beer and gesturing to the paper with photos of celebrities. “Let us know if you know any.”

Sherlock glanced down at them with a huff, instantly pointing, “Miriam Margolyes,” he said, tilting his head and pointing again. “Humphrey Bogart.”

John smiled proudly at Sherlock and nudged him playfully with his entire side, “I guess you do pay attention to films.” he laughed before writing down some more modern singers and a reality TV show star who had become famous for flashing her boobs. John turned the paper to Lestrade to allow him to have a turn “Do you want another drink?” John asked, “Id rather not get up again but Beryl will put it on my tab if you ask.”

Sherlock glanced at his empty glass, seemed to hesitantly shift his fingers on John’s knee, but ultimately got up and strolled over to the bar, leaning on the counter nonchalantly to wait in the small line that had developed. He kept glancing over his shoulder at John, fiddling with his glass.

“So?” Lestrade murmured under his breath, making sure his mouth didn’t move so much as he wrote down on the paper. “What happened?”

“It just happened” John whispered back, leaning forward as though he was helping with the photos “I didn't tell you but – I got drunk with my army mates and ended up getting a Prince Albert piercing. I freaked out and Sherlock helped me deal with it, he cleaned it and helped me get my head around it and… it just went from there.”

“You have a what piercing?” Lestrade spluttered, laughing into his hand and then quickly looking over at Sherlock, who was thankfully looking away at the time. “Jesus! – So he touched your genitals and you thought “hang on, that was kinda nice!””

“It wasn't like that!” John insisted, throwing a look over his shoulder “It just… I was having trouble y'know – sorting myself out.” he gestured crudely and blushed “because I didn't want to touch the piercing. I was afraid it would hurt. So he sort of… did it for me. We decided to give a relationship a go. So we're official. A couple.”

Lestrade stared at him with amusement and a smirk, and then tilted his head, peering between John and Sherlock, “Well, I’m happy for you. I am. You seem content and he seems…” he regarded Sherlock for a long moment and then chuckled, “a little uneasy, actually. No wonder he came here with you and was doing the whole… touching thing – Not been long then? You two being all official?”

“Less than forty eight hours.” John admitted, “I think he's not used to being with someone like this. He sees everyone as a potential threat. He'll settle down soon enough though” John hoped, taking a drink and then watching as Sherlock came walking over “Not a word!” he hissed at Lestrade who nodded.

Sherlock sat down just as Lestrade tapped the paper of celebs, “Done!” Lestrade announced happily. “Easy – Especially considering that most of these new celebrities are shoved in your face via the TV or magazines. I’ve seen that sodding Kardashian far too much. Way too much.” 

“Who?” Sherlock frowned, his hand once again moving to John’s knee.

Lestrade shook his head and waved one hand, “You’re better off not knowing.”

“Woman with a big arse.” John said with a shrug, “Her father helped OJ Simpson during the murder trial.”

The conversation and quiz flowed easily between the men and John relaxed slightly allowing his fingers to trail over Sherlock's own when the detective moved his hand back to John's knee. They were close enough that nobody else could see but John kept sneaking a look at Sherlock occasionally, showing anyone just how besotted he was with the man.

Sherlock, though he was clueless to most of the trivia questions of the quiz, contributed whenever he was able and seemed to unwind as time wore on, whether that was done to the alcohol or Lestrade’s contagious playful attitude, John wasn’t sure. Sherlock’s hand stayed fixed to John for the entire night, a warm, comforting and oddly affectionate weight. The hand was only removed when Sherlock got up for the toilet, and Lestrade made sure Sherlock was completely out of earshot before he grinned and leaned forward.

“He is smitten, isn’t he?” Lestrade teased with a laugh. “You both are.”

“It's not like that.” John scoffed, rolling his eyes “I'm not even sure what I feel about him. Obviously I love him as a best friend, he's brilliant and fantastic and – and --- Shit.” John gulped, staring at Lestrade “Shit, I love him don't I? I fucking love him. Jesus bloody Christ!”

Lestrade shrugged still grinning. “Calm down. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. It’s perhaps too soon to fully know. – Don’t forget that the first stage of any relationship is always like this. Where you steal glances. Think about them almost constantly. Ache to be near them. All of that. You’re both smitten, as I said. Doesn’t mean love. Or, not yet anyway,” he said with a wink.

John looked around, making sure they were alone before whispering “I took it up the arse for him. I think it's love.”

Jerking at his words, Lestrade flushed and coughed, laughing, “Jesus, John!” He exclaimed, glancing around as he lowered his voice and leaned on his elbows. “So it’s not just dick touching then? – How was it?”

“Good. It was – good.” John smirked, blushing and looking away “He has these piercings… and they just feel… well, imagine anal beads. That's all I'm saying.” he laughed “Where is Sherlock? He's been ages. I should check up on him.”

“Maybe he’s taking a dump?” Lestrade suggested with an amused shrug, taking a gulp of his drink. “And I had no idea about the piercings. I knew he had a tongue one once. Made him lisp a bit. Was hilarious.”

“Oh god, don't say that as I'm about to stand up.” John winked, “Ever gotten a blow job off someone with a tongue piercing? It's devastating. Leaves you feeling rinsed out.” he laughed as he stood up and downed his pint “I'll be two ticks.”

John stood, only to watch Sherlock stride back towards them with a look of determination on his face. Frowning deeply, John tilted his head “Sherlock?”

“Can we leave?” Sherlock asked, looking at John's half full pint like it had actually committed an assault on him. “This is tedious.”

“It's nearly over.” Lestrade said, watching the quiz master counting up the scores. “Don't you want to know if we win?”

“Unlikely. The team across the way have been bribing Beryl the barmaid to sneak a peek at the answers and tell them.” Sherlock huffed, “So, we should leave.”

“No.” John said firmly, maintaining Sherlock's gaze in a challenge. “We're staying.”

Sherlock sneered angrily and then sat with a huff, taking out his mobile and letting his fingers fly over the buttons. John ignored him, chatting to Lestrade until he felt the pulsing of his phone vibrating in his pocket. Fishing it out, John swiped the bar across and rolled his eyes at the text, seeing Sherlock's name. 

** I hoped to have sex – SH **

** and you would rather wait to see if you got the question about dinosaurs correct – SH **

John smirked, nodding and answering Greg when he needed as he replied to the message.

** We can have sex later. - JW **

** and it was right. I googled it when I went to the loo – JW **

Sherlock shuffled his chair further under the table so he could put his hand back onto John's knee, sliding it up to his mid thigh and back down. 

** I can feel that you want me John, your muscles are tense. - SH **

John bit his lip but attempted to answer Greg with only a hint of a squeak to his voice. Something rapidly noticed by Lestrade who winced “Is he – touching you?”

“No.” Sherlock and John both said together, John with a blush and Sherlock with a look of confusion.

“Oh god.” Greg playfully retched. “You two are vile. Your relationship has turned you into monsters.”

“What relationship?” Sherlock asked, looking suspiciously at both men.

“Oh. Shit.” Greg gulped, “We weren't gossiping. I just said John looked different and he said about the piercing and the –“

“Everything else.” John admitted with a shy shrug “I'm not embarrassed.”

Sherlock blinked but then gave a soft, genuine smile “Okay. Good. That's – good. Fine.”

“Glad to have it sorted.” Greg smiled with a huff of relief. “I think the scores are in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as far as I've got. I originally had an idea to end on, but then it changed and It means I'm going to need to write more. I start a new job on Monday so I'm not sure when I'll get chance but I'm hoping within the next week or so. Sorry guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels us!
> 
>  
> 
> [Kittie's Tumblr](http://kittiekatthings.tumblr.com/)  
> [Gem's Tumblr](http://gem-gem-bites.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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